


Its. Just. Acting.

by lisa_yo



Category: IT, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Actors AU, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anxiety, Ben has a body positivity arc that Eddie helps him overcome because I need it, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Beverly is beautiful and pedophiles and sexualizing fuckers can go fuck themselves, Boys in dresses, Circus i think like some rewrite the stars shit, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie is a Good Friend, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, FANS ARE THEIR OWN CHARACTERS, FANS IN TWITTER, Fix-It, GAY LEAD ACTORS, Gay Soldiers, Hollywood, Homophobic Language, Losers club as the Brat Pack, M/M, Music Videos - Freeform, Musicals, Mutual Pining, Practice Kissing, Questioning Sexuality, Recovery from Suicide, Red Carpet, Reincarnation fic, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie is a good friend, Richie is a multi talented musician/actor, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Social Media, Social Media AU, Suicide Attempt, The Losers Club as the Seven Deadly Sins, also, beverly in a suit, but hes not ready yet, discovering sexuality, ominous allusion to past incarnations of their lives, richie tozier recieving custom made Eddie Shorts Hawaiian shirts as fan gifts, sharing houses, the tags are a mess i am so sorry, this is to help cope with my glamorization of hollywood actors just to get this off my chest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22927207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisa_yo/pseuds/lisa_yo
Summary: It happens at 27:01, the moment that so defines their relationship.The orange background contrasts their all black outfit—Eddie in a three-piece suit for his first appearance at The Graham Norton’s Show, and Richie in his bad boy rep, ripped jeans and the leather jacket James Dean-kinda look.Eddie is a rising star, although always secondary to the Bill and Bev.Richie, on the other hand, is Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. World’s favorite singer, or as Eddie likes to call him, a sellout. But he’s what successful is, if there ever is a word for it. Young, rich and popular.Frankly, Eddie’s heard a lot of shit about Richie. But it’s Hollywood, right? Everybody’s got shit. He didn’t want to believe it at first, but there were pictures. And if they weren’t enough, Eddie had to meet Richie in the dastardliest way possible.Because Richie has the trashiest fucking mouth there is, and he hasn’t even started talking.--At 27:01, Eddie’s career is ruined, and it is Richie’s fault.--Or, Eddie and Richie play lovers for the better part of ten years. At some point, they forget they are pretending.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Patricia Blum Uris/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	1. prologue

The Turtle gives them a chance.

It is Richie, a Turtle, and the wide expanse of the universe. _Maturin_. His brain fills out.

He won’t remember it, not _really_. He wouldn’t really know what he forgets. But right now, here they are: Richie floating in front of a not quite talking turtle, drunk enough to accept whatever this might be.

(He did not expect it to be a second chance.)

It—the _Turtle, Maturin, Maturin, Maturin, not It, not Pennywise—_ catches his eyes, and Richie has never felt more unraveled.

Maturin’s eyes are wide and unblinking and steady. Its body, sturdy and vast and secure. Richie could almost get lost in how ethereal it makes him feel, his body subconsciously feeling at ease even though his mind is a constant thrumming of thoughts.

In all its calm and quiet, the turtle doesn’t need to speak to say _I am the creator of the universe_ because somehow, Richie _knows._

“Why?” he chokes.

He does not need to finish the question, the Turtle knows the end of it—rather, the endless stream of possibilities that it could end with.

Why am I here? Why are you talking to me? Why talk to _me?_ Why do you know me? Why— _Why Eddie?_

This time, it blinks.

And Richie is bombarded with a steady stream of _thoughts—thoughts that are not his, and thoughts that tell him_ things _and thoughts that do not make sense—_ until they do.

_Child,_ it starts. _You who have protected the universe, a knight of the physical Earth, a mortal, a hero—you who are lost--_

(Wide, unblinking eyes. Beseeching.)

_I am here to guide you back home._

Richie sputters, flustered at how he is described but also suspicious because he doesn’t think he was ever praised so genuinely before. Not as a kid ( _Bucky Beaver—Trashmouth—faggo—)_ or even as an adult ( _sell-out comedian—tasteless—cheap—fake—)._ It definitely wasn’t about to start in space with a talking turtle.

_That’s where you are wrong. It might not always be spoken words, but the praise is there in the bond with your friends. This bond that allowed you to protect the universe in a way I had not been able to. And as a result, you have lost everything._

A heavy sigh escapes.

Richie ages decades, if the way his soul falters is any indication.

His body drags down, even as he floats in the open space.

The turtle watches him in every moment, and Richie thinks it might be seeing more than it let on because the being continues.

_I cannot change the way your life will unravel, not anymore_. _Not for you. You will live, and you will grow old, and you will even learn to smile again. You will not be able to make jokes anymore but. It will be for the better. Instead, you will become a storyteller, and the world will know the story of the Loser’s Club. They will not know it is real but it does not matter. For even if your motivations are borne of fear and need and sadness— Richie Tozier, you who have been wronged so much will only bring laughter in this world. And in that laugher, seven souls become immortal._

His hands become heavy as lead, his feet numb, unfeeling. His chest stops rising and he realizes he is not breathing anymore. A cold sweat runs down the knobs of his spine and he _needs_ to adjust his glasses but he cannot move.

Richie is helpless.

He cannot stop from hearing whatever this is even though he so badly wants to. His soul thrashes around, his mind screaming and furious and desperate-- _PLEASE STOP--_

The Turtle does not stop.

_One by one they will pass on. Beverly first. Then Bill. Mike. Ben. And then. You._

_And when you pass on, your soul will transcend. And you will live again. And this is where you’ll find them._

_This is where you’ll find him._

The Turtle blinks, slow and dragging, _lazy._

( _Regretful)_

_However, there are rules in the universe that even I cannot surpass. You will meet them, in every life you live—in every dimension and every universe. But the end breathes with you—nothing is set in stone. This is the best I can do._

As if sitting back, the turtle blinks at him one last time.

_From this moment forth, the stage is yours._

_\--_

When Richie Tozier wakes up that morning under the light of the Californian sun, he does not remember the dream he had the night before. What he does remember, though, is that Eddie Kaspbrak is dead and the ever so growing desire to quit comedy.

He will live his life exactly like the Turtle has said. And he will die the last of the Losers. By then, he would have made countless films, but nothing as beloved as his first one. It would be a story about endless summers and the seven kids who lived in it. The world would laugh, and cry, and remember. It would come out of nowhere—least of all from the washed-out comedian, but it would be beloved for decades after his own passing.

The world will wonder how it ever came to be, but they will never ever be close to guessing it. Instead, they will settle for remembering the film— rewatch it in the darkest moments. To gather strength. To relish in the warmth of something more than just themselves. To love.

It feels like this: the echo of laughter in a sunlit clubhouse, the smell of tire under the summer heated roads, and the word LoVer on the cast of a kid who looked like he could take on the world.

The world will mourn Richie Tozier and it is Bev and Ben’s kid who would talk about him like Richie was his own father. When Bev’s kid finally looks, seated in the park beside the old man, he would see the smile in Richie’s face and he would take it as peace.

The world will never know it as relief.

\--

Somewhere, deep within the universe, a slumbering Turtle awakens.

Somewhere, in another version of their universe, a tall, loud boy meets a short, angry boy, and the _settling_ that they feel deep in their hearts do not mean anything beyond that of instant annoyance, and a little bit of thrill. They will spend years dancing around each other, like they will always do, in every lifetime that eventually comes.

But in this one, Richie Tozier has just performed his hit single in front of international television and runs straight to budding child actor Eddie Kaspbrak. What he does next will subject him to the other boy’s ire, but what comes next is something that has never quite happened before.

Somewhere, a few universes after the first, Richie Tozier meets Eddie Kaspbrak for the first time, and he hugs him like it is the last.

(He _remembers.)_

“ _It’s you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not be fooled by the prologue. This is filled with slow-burn, enemies-friends-lovers, friendship! and Sexual Tension. Only a dash of angst and references to reincarnation because it is my headcanon that every fic made ever is just reddie reincarnated. Those flower shop aus, or coffee shop aus, or punk!richie pastel!eddie, boarding school, sports!au, vampire!eddie, everyone lives/nobody dies? Yup all of them are just reincarnations of the first one. that’s it. we’re in the matrix. (I haven’t actually seen the matrix)  
> Please give me a chance this really is an actors au.  
> Also, I kind of based the beats in a Scorose Harry Potter fic I read called This Is(n't) Acting by GraeLiars, so check their fic out!  
> And, please,,, validate me i need your love to keep going uwu


	2. Bike down a different road, stop crossing my path!

*

**bike. pt. one.**

*

It happens at 27:01, the moment that so defines their relationship.

The orange background contrasts their all black outfit—Eddie in a three-piece suit for his first appearance at The Graham Norton’s Show, and Richie in his bad boy rep, ripped jeans and the leather jacket James Dean-kinda look.

Eddie is a rising star, although always secondary to the real stars of the show— Bill and Bev. Or. Well. _BillandBev._ They were there to promote their Netflix show about runaway children on a quest to find themselves. It was if-Studio-Ghibli was live action, and Eddie reveled being in it. Although it hurt, he’s accepted that he’s not the star of that show, and was happy with any breadcrumb of attention he can get, because at least he can have this, right? _Wrong_. Wherever he thought his career would go after international exposure, it couldn’t have been more derailed than had he not been there, that night.

 _Richie,_ on the other hand, is Richie “Trashmouth” Tozier. Been performing since he was 13, skyrocketed in fame at 15, and had already toured America at 16. He’s what successful is, if there ever is a word for it. Young, rich and popular. Frankly, Eddie’s heard a lot of shit about Richie. But it’s Hollywood, right? Everybody’s got shit. He didn’t want to believe it at first, but there were _pictures._ And if they weren’t enough, Eddie had to meet Richie in the dastardliest way possible.

Because Richie has the trashiest fucking mouth there is, and he hasn’t even started talking.

\--

At **27:01** , Eddie’s career is ruined, and it is _Richie’s_ fault.

\--

Backtrack to a few moments before.

Richie is humming into the mic, matching the fading instruments. The blue light shadows his face and all that Eddie sees is a sad boy on the stage. For a minute, he forgets who Richie is, and in that moment, he thinks he finally sees the artist for who he is.

(Stupid, stupid.)

It is so rich and melancholic, the music coming from deep within his chest. His eyebrows furrowing and his lips curling. Red, _red_ lips that are so dangerous in the way it speaks its truth. Something aches in Eddie’s chest, but he calls it disbelief in watching this rough boy singing the softest tune he’s heard.

For the fuck boy that he is, he can damn hold a tune.

\--

It is **25:03** when Richie Tozier walks off the platform to a roaring cheer. He is grinning, wide and charming. When he approaches the couch, Richie does not waste his time in hugging Beverly who revels in it. The audience squeals.

Beside Beverly who is still giggling in absolute thrill, Richie gives Bill a tougher hug and Bill chuckles in surprise at how much Richie engulfs him.

Eddie is standing still, and he does not notice anything other than how much taller the singer is up close.

The seconds tick, and its **25:57** when Eddie catches Richie’s eyes.

They’re blue—electric, but melancholic and something tugs so badly in his chest but he _doesn’t know why._

**26:00.**

His body turns to Eddie, and Eddie does not know what to do so he just stands there. Is Richie going to hug him too? He should, right? Because that’s what he did with Bev and Bill, and come on, Eddie isn’t that low on the social ladder to not get a hug, right?

(He doesn’t even like hugs that much, why is this bothering him so much?)

By **26:13** , Richie’s hands move.

They rest on Eddie’s cheek.

His thumb caresses his cheekbone, and Eddie feels the wet smudge across it.

He hadn’t realized he was crying, and he will deny it until Beverly forces him to see the video. But at that time, he thinks, the song is just really, really good, okay?

 **26:20** , everything is silent and even the host does not speak. The camera would pan over to both of their faces like they are in a soap opera, not that they would notice at the moment. Later, though, Eddie would slap himself for being so obvious, despite not knowing what he is being obvious about.

 **26:36** , Eddie feels more than sees Richie moving closer, the air around them charged and heavy.

(And it’s more at 26:45 when it happens, rather than 27:01. The thing that haunts Eddie so much.)

Richie’s face closes in on Eddie, and the camera catches the exact moment Eddie glances at Richie’s lips, directly in front of his eyeline, and he can’t help it, at that time, when he licks his own lips.

A lot of the fans would pause the video at this moment, and YouTube will display the image that will so blatantly expose Eddie and Richie before they could even find out for themselves. There would be gifs made, fanfictions written on this very moment that happens on the late-night show. Some will say it was staged, but for those who knew Eddie, they would laugh their asses off because Eddie does not display this type of vulnerability in front of just anyone, let alone millions.

**26:43.**

Richie leans in and Eddie’s breath hitches. He closes his eyes, _ready_.

**26:44.**

He’s waiting.

He feels his breath mix with Richie’s.

What the fuck is happening.

**26:45.**

_Ah._

**26:48**

The warmth of Richie’s lips does something to Eddie downright malicious.

It confuses him. The lips, so tender on his skin. Just above his brows, lines smoothed by his sweet caress. But before he could think more of it, Richie engulfs him in an enthusiastic hug—long arms like a vice over Eddie’s waist, and Eddie thinks, this is not how you hug a stranger.

_(“—Richie, you know I…”)_

(“— _this is where you’ll find him.”)_

(“— _what—”)_

The hug lasts a few sweet lifetimes, and at **26:54,** Eddie returns it.

The host is about to interrupt them with a jibe when Richie lets go of the hug and chokes, in tears himself— (and this is at **27:00** )—

**27:01.**

“ _It’s you!”_

_\--_

The thing about Eddie Kaspbrak is that he’s sweet and considerate, okay? But that doesn’t make him a pushover. He was done being that kind of person when he walked away from his mother’s control.

And yeah, alright. Out of the three of them—Bill, Bev and Eddie— Eddie is the most inhibited. Bill’s the main character to their Netflix show. Even though he’s a quiet kid, his reservations could only be pushed so far. He has to talk.

Beverly is what you would call, _born_ for the camera. She’s bright and lively, with her hearty laugh and general… _vibrancy._ Within a foot of her, you’re simultaneously the center of attention and _not._

And then there’s Eddie. Eddie who not only plays what others would consider the _third_ character (you know, the expendable one. Which, ouch), but is also sweet enough not to speak out of turn. (Okay, maybe he hadn’t gotten out of his mother’s grasps completely yet. He’s 17, he’s still _learning._ ) It causes him to speak less than Beverly or Bill, and it’s not like the fans have enough questions for him.

He’s heard people call him Bill’s best friend, both in character and in real life. He’s always just Bill’s best friend. Don’t get him wrong, he loves being Bill’s best friend. It’s the reason he’s where he is, the reason he’s still fucking alive. But when all he’s known for is being someone else’s friend, it takes the agency out of his character, removes the narrative to his own personal story. It makes him feel like he’s nothing _but_ Bill’s best friend.

(Maybe he is. Maybe his mother is right and he won’t amount to anything worthwhile— but, but whatever, right? _Right_?)

…sometimes, when life gets especially annoying, it takes the most out of his willpower not to update his twitter bio to:

**Bill’s Best Friend (verified)**

@edkaspbrak

_Bill is the main character, even in my life._

Anyway.

Eddie is sweet and definitely _not_ a pushover, despite how much the media loves to relegate him to that. So, when Richie Tozier tweets a picture of them in the couch after the whole debacle, with the fucking caption of:

**Richie Tozier (verified)**

@trashmouthmusic

[Image of Richie Tozier at one end of the couch while Eddie sits on the other end]

_two bros chilling in a hot couch five feet apart cause we’re not gay! :* ;*_

Eddie is only obligated by principle to retweet with a:

**Eddie Kaspbrak (verified)**

@edkaspbrak

_bro, there was no chilling._

It was his way of saying, _yeah, bro, no_ **fucking** _way._ Apparently, everyone else took it as a _yeah, bro, fuck- me-sideways-with-a-chainsaw way, yay!_ because not even a minute after he tweeted that, his notification is bombarded with _I ship it so fucking much_ and _Guys! IT’S REDDIE._ Which was news to him, because, Reddie? Really? They interacted one time on camera and one time online, and everyone thinks they’re in love?

_Ugh._

Eddie turns in his bed, his phone buzzing with every new notification. He’s filled with so much that one buzz doesn’t even get to finish until another one goes. He turns off his notifications and buries the whole thing in the back of his head. Everyone’s overreacting. He knows how this goes. They’ve been like that with Bill and Beverly. The less interaction, the better. And with the way things are right now, Eddie’s sure they will forget about it in a week or two.

Eddie falls asleep that night thinking of Richie and how fucked up their first meeting was, and how that would be the strangest memory he will have of that boy because after that moment, they will never ever interact ever again.

\--

The fans do not forget about it. In fact, there is a splurge of fan accounts made for their non-existent love affair, and Reddie becomes part of the top 10 trending topics for a very short, very significant amount of time.

Significant enough for lowly news sites to make articles about it.

“Eddie.”

“Yes, Beverly?”

“Oh, come on, Eddie. C’mere, you _need_ to see this.”

“What is it, Beverly? Can you not tell me from afar?”

“Fuck you Eddie. No need to be so cold,” Bev pouts, looking down at her phone. A few minutes later, she looks at Eddie again, a mischievous grin etched on her face. She scoots over to where Eddie is sitting a few chairs away, and when he still doesn’t look at her, she pokes him on the cheek.

_Poke._

“Eddie.”

_Poke. Poke._

“E _-ddie_.”

_Poke. Poke. Po—_

_“What!”_ he hisses, eyes livid with heavy bags underneath.

“Look at what your beau tweeted again!”

“My _beau—_ that fucker won’t shut the fuck up on twitter, he isn’t my _beau,_ if anything, he’s a bastard and a nuisance!”

Eddie is only sweet when he isn’t aggravated. Turns out, Richie aggravates him to no end.

The singer has been replying nonstop to tweets about Reddie, insinuating something that is far from the truth given that they don’t even _know_ each other beyond what everyone else saw. When his twitter blew up, and he gained about 1, 000 followers in one night, Eddie decided to at least look what all the fuss was about.

Which he regretted almost immediately. There was a reason celebrities shouldn’t google their names, and why said celebrities shouldn’t be actively searching for their ships because fans go _feral._

And that’s a word he _read_ on one of the posts. That word was one of the tame ones.

Eddie deleted his Twitter app immediately and spent the rest of that night trying to forget about certain tweets he read.

That was two nights ago. Right now, he’s on set with Bev shooting the last few episodes of the third, and final, season. They are on a break, with Bill taking the solo stage for the moment, and Bev takes it as her time to bother Eddie with the whole debacle.

“I’ve been following hashtag Reddie since it started and, Eddie, your man Richie’s got a crush!”

“He’s not my _man,_ and he doesn’t have a _crush._ He just wants the attention. I’m telling you Bev, it’s cause’ of those pictures of him going around, and he’s only using me to add to his already rabid army fans from his suck-ass music!”

Bev blinks, processing his words, but smiles ultimately.

“Eddie, I’ve never seen you this passionate before.”

“Passion is not anger Bev, and I’m pretty sure what it’s called is _rage_.”

“Yeah, a raging boner.”

“ _BEV!”_

Bev shrieks with giggles as Eddie chases her around, trying to ignore the heat in his face.

When Eddie finally outruns Bev, he tugs her down to the floor. Bev pretends to put on a fight only to give up and let Eddie hold her down. For a minute, they both breathe hard, Bev more than Eddie, laughing the whole time. When Eddie gets enough of his bearings, he glares at Bev one last time before leaning on the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Bev as she joins him.

“I swear to God Bev I won’t forgive you if you even so much as _insinuate_ that Richie and I are anything more than strangers.”

Bev winks at him and Eddie glares at her. She raises her hands in surrender, “Alright, you don’t have a cute crush on Richie even though I, and millions of others, insist that you do. However!” Eddie groans. “You should still look at this. Here. I even filtered it out for you, chose the most coherent ones.”

What Eddie sees is the most self-indulgent thread on twitter ever, and his blood boils to unprecedented heights that volcanologists should have it documented.

It goes:

**I saw rihanna at a grocery store**

@katiemelly

@trashmouthmusic out there having millions of thirsty fans and he settles on a bop on the forehead and some crying…

**Richie Tozier (verified)**

@trashmouthmusic

My dude, it was more than just a bop on the forehead.

**Richie Tozier can have MY ass**

**@Jared_ninteen**

Richie, Eddie’s gone awol, how the fuck do you two know each other it was out of fucking nowhere

**Richie Tozier (verified)**

@trashmouthmusic

We know each other very well my love

**Heww’s Kitchen**

@LenaLady

Literal child popstar Richie Tozier and smol bean Eddie Kaspbrak? Howw??? Tell? Me? How? When?

**Richie Tozier (verified)**

@trashmouthmusic

How??? How what? How we tango? How we collaborate? How we unite? Also? Every chance we get. Wink wink.

**Hollywood is a cult, everyones a pedo**

@jasperkk

Okay so is anyone going to ignore the whole controversy just a few weeks before or is this new fling gonna be a whole cover up to that…

@trashmouthmusic **_retweeted._**

The absurdity and lewdness of Richie tweets is inevitably what makes Eddie install his Twitter back. Needless to say, the barrage of notifications got annoying enough that he turned it off indefinitely and went straight to Richie’s profile.

E: What the fuck Richie?!

R: Eduardo!

R: hows it hangin

R: okay don’t answer that 

R: anyway, what do you think about this particular art piece…

E: NO! NO! DON’T SEND ME A FUCKING FANART OF THE TWO OF US OR I SWEAR TO GOD I’LL FIND YOU AND I’LL STRANGLE YOU TO DEATH

R: i’m interested in little deaths

R: yknow

R: Orgasms

E: You’re literally 17, and you’re a fucking celebrity you shouldn’t be so openly sexual like this its bad for your reputation and s

E: STOP dragging me down with it!

R: come on dude, it’s all fun and games

E: When you suggest that the two of us are “tangoing” or “uniting” there is no fun or games

E: Its clear what the fuck you were saying

E: ““““DUDE””””

R: so you saw the tweets

E: Not the fucking point

R: in any case!!! they ship us

E: Which is why you should stop with whatever it is you think you’re doing

R: i’m only telling them what’s true

R: we’re a match made in heaven

E: You’re the fucking devil and I lick Gabriel’s ass, we couldn’t have been further apart

R: ah, but that means we get to be forbidden lovers. i’ll be the romeo to your julio, eduardo. The donnie to your clyde

E: The Adam to your Steve? Yeah fuck off

E: I don’t want to hear anything else on twitter

E: Stop fucking lying to people

E: I don’t even know you

E: Whatever the fuck happened on the couch was a blip in the universe

E: It’s nothing so you should just ignore it and shut the fuck up about it

E: OKAY

E: ?!!?

R:

R: alright eduardo

E: Not my name

Eddie closes the app, deletes it again and then spends the whole week trying to forget about Richie fucking Tozier.

\--

It works, forgetting about Richie, when his life is so hectic that he even forgets to put on his shoes right. Eddie is thrown into the chaos of shooting for their show’s finale. From the physical work that goes into it—action, choreographies, rehearsals—and then the emotional turmoil of having to say goodbye to the one thing in his life that he thinks is worth note of, Eddie is well and truly distracted.

They shoot the final episode in a span of week, and his character gets to shine many times. He acts the hardest he’s ever had to, putting in everything he knows about the human emotion into full display for the screen to capture. He doesn’t have to try too hard in crying because he’s been emotional for the last weeks.

When it ends, they are given a few months of break while the post production does their magic. The following months after would be spent promoting it.

They take a few weeks of vacation before collectively diving head first into the forays of acting and entertainment. Eddie auditions wherever he can, and while his agent gives him enough opportunities to be out there, Bill has already gotten a call back while he’s still struggling to even reach the top picks for the roles.

Bev has been going above and beyond of both boys. She got herself a starring episode in Sherlock Season 7. A _fucking_ episode in _SHERLOCK. SEASON SEVEN._ Wait, no, let’s have another take to that. It didn’t hit the right emotions. _BEVERLY. Fucking. MARSH. GOT an episode—no, no, THE! FIRST!_ episode of _Sherlock. Season. SEVEN._ Which was supposed to be impossible, because Sherlock was never going to have a season seven. They were thinking of calling it quits at season six. But Bev auditioned for that season and her presence apparently _inspired_ everyone—from her acting, to her charm, to her _everything_.

Not only that, but after Bev finished shooting episode one (of Sherlock! Season! SEVEN!), she is immediately booked for photoshoots for magazines. She debuts her first cover photo for the VOGUE magazine, and everyone is calling her the next Emma Watson, for how much the world adores her.

When Eddie catches himself thinking about Bev, he does not allow himself to feel envy, because Bev has worked hard for this. She _deserves this._ She’s great and talented and everything Eddie apparently isn’t. (Because if he was, he should be where she is, right? Right?)

While Bill and Bev are out there being stars, Eddie will go back to where he began and be his own little star in a cute little commercial that he will grow old playing, and that will be the only thing he is known for, other than the fact that he’s _Bills Best Friend._

 _Oh,_ he’s _heard_ what they say. Why he doesn’t get the roles. It’s never said to him outright, always just out of earshot. But Eddie’s got sharp ears so he always hears it, and that’s how he knows it’s what they really think. It’s always “We’re looking for something else” and “Isn’t he too small for his age?” “You’re kind of girly for a boy aren’t you?”

Eddie thinks it’s all bullshit. It’s not like he can do anything about his height, and what the fuck do they mean ‘he’s too _girly_?’ Just because he’s not as tall as the fucking Eifel tower, or as buff as one of those Instagram boys doesn’t mean he won’t grow into his looks! He just hasn’t hit his puberty in the right way yet. This year, it’ll come. When he turns 18, he just knows it.

When he asks Bill if he thinks Eddie is too girly, Bill stutters away a “you’re amazing just the way you are.” Which? What the fuck does that mean? Is he girly or not?

He’s not about to ask Bill how to be a man, though. He can just watch Bill become one. (And that sounded pathetic, even just hearing it in his head.) He doesn’t think he has enough time, though. And he feels an itch inside of him that reminds him of his inadequacy, his inability to _become,_ on his own. All his life, he’s had to depend on someone else to become someone who matters, and even then, he only matters because of the one he’s depending on. And this great feeling of not being enough scratches at his very being. Every offhand comment, every time someone calls him as Bill’s best friend or Bev’s side-kick, he feels a flush of embarrassment for being himself and being only second.

That moment at the couch, in front of millions of people, an international crowd, _a new opportunity—_ it was supposed to be his moment to shine. His chance to show that he _can_ be likeable, even if he’s short and not quite the lead-actor type right that moment.

And Richie had to ruin it all.

Maybe that’s why, whenever he thinks of the boy at random intervals, admittedly the lowest of his lows, he feels a fierce burning in his stomach, and he takes it as frustration and anger and irritation all to the highest levels.

Because _how dare he take my chance away from me._ How dare he come up to me and just like that, ruin everything I’ve been trying to build for myself!

Because now, when people say Eddie Kaspbrak, its always only gonna be about Richie Tozier.

Because Richie Tozier has been in the spotlight for a very long time now, and Eddie was gonna have his chance to get his too. But now he’s going to have to share it with Richie and its just _so fucking unfair!_

If Eddie sleeps that night in a puddle of frustrated tears, nobody would know that while he was cursing Richie Tozier into the stars and back, it was really at himself that he was mad at.

\--

Eddie takes a few more auditions, and actually gets a few stages ahead into the casting before he has to stop everything else for press tours. It happens so quickly that Eddie suddenly wants to throw up. This is real. This is the final time he’s ever going to press for this show, the one he starred in with his best friend Bill, and the one where he found his other best friend Beverly.

They are walking toward the bigger stages at Comic Con, the ones where Marvel holds some of their panels. This is their first time here, and it will be the last he will be here with Bill and Bev. He basks in the adrenaline—allows himself to enjoy the attention, even though he’s just barely holding onto their spotlight. It’s times like this, being thankful down to his bones, that he’s glad he even gets to have this. And, not like in the bitter way.

Of course, all that goes away later, when they’re in the middle of discussing an answer. They’re sitting in uncomfortable metal chairs that stands at the center of the stage, with Bev leading the conversation, Bill engaging in it and Eddie trying to participate in every chance he’s given.

“...and Lorraine—” Bev’s character, “wasn’t always trustful, so getting close to both Tim and Teddy was her being vulnerable, that’s when she _changed.”_

“Yeah, I completely agree. Tim—” Bill’s character— “is much too trustful in that case. B-But what works for both of them is that they balance each other out. Which I think, in any relationship, is always a good dynamic.”

He doesn’t stutter as much, what with the expensive speech therapy classes he takes and the sheer dedication Bill pulls every day, trying to rid himself of his stutter. It slips, sometimes, bit Bill always gets back up. Always stronger than before.

He realizes he’s spaced out when there is an awkward beat for when he’s supposed to start talking, and Eddie hates it when this happens, when his mind runs too far for him to reach sometimes. But he takes the small pause as him trying to hold on to the vestiges of fame and acknowledgement he can ever have, because this might just be the last time he gets to be here. This might just be the height of his career, and he wouldn’t know.

Eddie snaps out of it and fumbles, but he barely gets a word before someone else decides it’s their chance to talk.

A loud tapping gets their attention from the side of the stage, and everyone turns to look. There stands the second host looking apologetic, but only on the surface. He’s more excited than anything. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt this _wonderful_ discussion,” again, not as sorry as he could be. “but we have a wonderful _surprise_ for all of you fans out there.” Eddie frowns. No one told them anything. What the fuck is happening and what is this ‘ _wonderful surprise!’_ all about?

“With Paradise Island’s final season, the people at the Top,” the host continues, pointing at the sky as if the producers were God, “managed to get you all a wonderful gift!”

Eddie’s eye twitches. One more ‘ _wonderful!’_ from this kiss-ass and he’ll be baring his teeth.

“For the third and final season of Paradise Island, the soundtrack will be sung by none other than Richie Tozier!”

And it’s like Rihanna herself walked to the stage.

Everybody flips their shit.

Those who couldn’t get a hold of their feelings screams. There is a lot of screaming.

Those who has the presence of the mind, the survivor’s instinct, records the whole thing. Eddie sees God in the form of a screaming teen, her hands stiff as a board to get the steadiest shot he has yet to see.

And then, worst of it all, those who had long been in the fandom, had enough investment in all of the cast, enough interest to give to the third-man Eddie, they’re the ones to fear. The moment the words ‘Richie Tozier’ left the presenter’s mouth, Eddie felt the whip of the air as these people honed in on him, eyes hungry for information and eager for destruction.

And destruction they will get.

Because not even a minute into the whole chaos, and Eddie only getting to wonder why the hell everyone is reacting this way, it was just an announcement, what the _fuck—_ and not even getting another second to contemplate how much he hates it that it has to be Richie fucking Tozier again, goddamn it—everyone erupts into a symphony of screams.

Eddie feels the air shift, and he is too shaken to grab onto Bev’s steady hands. It was like if One Direction suddenly walked into the room—rabid, desperate screams all across the nation.

He should have just resigned himself into this faith, this cruel game of hit the mole, only this time, Richie is a persistent mole that never goes down despite how hard Eddie hits him.

Eddie knows the moment Richie walked on stage, he just _feels_ the desperate tug of the universe, and the strongest urge to strangle him. He doesn’t. Instead, he sits there, like a good boy and watches. Waits. _Resists._

“ _Wow_ ,” he breathes into the mic, as if the world hasn’t been greeting him like he’s the only man with a glass of water in the desert. Eddie’s heard them describe it as being ‘ _thirsty’_. “I know everyone’s here for my beloved Eddie,” _what. “_ so whatcha say, I serenade him? Sing with me if you know the lyrics!”

He breaks into the most lurid performance he’s ever seen. Richie gyrating into the microphone stand. Richie licking onto his palms just before he holds the microphone in it. Richie being _Richie._

And it takes all of Eddie (and Bev’s and Bill’s) strength not to throw himself at the bastard and claw his stupid blue eyes out.

He sits there, stewing in anger, and when Richie catches his eyes and winks, Eddie is stunned for a hot second before he glares at the back of Richie’s head.

In times of true crisis, Eddie tries to rationalize. The people, Eddie could objectively understand. Richie’s tickets are expensive as fuck, these people here never expected Mr. World Tour to make a surprise appearance at Paradise Island’s panel. Because, well, it’s _Paradise Island’s panel and if Richie’s such a fucking big shot he should have his own fucking panel—_

Eddie realizes he hates Richie Tozier when he turns around completely, and then begins monologuing in the middle of the song, while the instrumentals play in the background, “Eddie, my love, I know not where you came from, nor where we will be in the years to come…” he says as he walks slowly towards Eddie.

“But for fate has worked its way for us to meet again, I take it as a sign for us to take this mere stranger status into one of, _perhaps_ …”

He kneels.

“Wedded brothers.”

Which makes no fucking sense.

But it makes more sense than the fucking ring pop that he shows, and the absolute shit eating grin that is iconic to Richie Tozier.

It is the moment that cements everything to Eddie. They’re all screaming, hollering, doing fuck knows what. Everyone wants them to be a thing—in love, for their own goddamn entertainment. And yeah, Richie _loves_ making fun of Eddie. So, it’s with that in mind that he concludes with searing clarity— Eddie _hates_ Richie.

And he’s about to make it _official_ like its his _job._

Eddie takes the ring pop from Richie’s hand and the dumbass looks up at him with surprise. He puts it in his finger, and then slowly puts it before his lips, never, ever leaving Richie’s eyes. There is bated breath, when everyone waits for what Eddie is about to do.

Eddie takes his time, gives Richie the most smoldering look he can give and the fucker gulps. That’s when he knows he has him. And that’s when Eddie knows its time.

He opens his mouth and bites the fucking red gem off the plastic ring before spitting it on the ground, and they are suddenly gladiators in Rome, with everyone reaching the height of entertainment at the death of a poor dumbass.

Because Eddie wasn’t a pushover, he wasn’t the dumbass who died in this round.

He takes the mic to his red stained lips, and says, ever so calmly, but nevertheless more poisonous, “ _No fucking way bro.”_

Eddie breaks everyone that day.

\--

“What the fuck was that all about Eddie—”

“Y-yeah, Eddie, hey—stop running—”

“Shit, you broke Tozier—he’s actually, he’s catatonic. Did you see the look on his face? Eddie!”

Eddie keeps power walking away from the two of them. As soon as their panel ended, Eddie didn’t want to so much as hear about Richie Tozier. He’s done. He’s _finished._ Fuck the guy. Ew, no—he didn’t mean, in _that_ way. You know. In the general way. Not the… gay way. Cause he’s not gay. And he hates that people assume that of him just because he’s small.

Fuck gender norms and social standards.

One day he’s gonna fucking revolutionize it all, and no one will assume of anyone ever again just because of one thing or another—and that’s. That’s if he gets another job after this one.

When Eddie meets Richie’s eyes at the end of the hall just before leaving, he turns fast enough not to see the apologetic grin Richie sends his way.

\--

Eddie’s not being dramatic, okay? He has the right to be mad when Richie’s very existence is to belittle him, to take every shred of opportunity from him just to dangle it in front of Eddie, and then piss on it as a joke.

It’s disrespectful and mocking and it’s all Eddie had and Richie _took_ it.

Every interaction they had was stilted and awkward—it wasn’t natural, nothing about it was _meant to be_ like what everyone likes to think. And its nauseating, just how much they want to believe something that’s not true. (Just how Eddie likes to believe that he’s ever going anywhere, with his dependency issues and inability to _become_ anyone with merit.)

Eddie screams into his pillow, and he closes the email his agent sends him. Another audition, another failure.

\--

It takes them two weeks and four days to call back. When they did, it is to say they’re flying him to New York for the audition. He tries not to get his hopes up when he tells Bill. He goes to his room at 2 pm on a Thursday, one of the rare days Bill is home. He’s told both Sharon and Zack earlier not to wait up on him for dinner, and that he’ll be going to New York for a week with his agent for another audition. They ask to go with him, but he knows its only for formalities. They’re both busy with their actual children, and he’s gone for auditions many times alone already, he can do it just fine. He doesn’t want to impose any more than he’s imposed for five years now, since Eddie left his mother.

“Eddie,” Bill calls just before Eddie leaves his room. Eddie turns to look back at Bill, eyebrow raised in question, “you’re going to nail it. I know you will.”

Eddie laughs, “Alright, Bill.”

“No,” Bill refuses, “You will. You’re… you’re going to get this role. And you’re going to be so good at it that everyone will be seeing you the way I’ve always seen y-you.”

“…thanks Bill.”

“Have a safe trip, Eddie.”

“I will.”

Eddie leaves as fast as he can to hide the snuffling that escape him.

\--

Eddie spends half the week in a daze, trying to learn the script and gathering all his willpower not to have a breakdown. Rumors has it that this one is a Lane and Heather film. _The_ LANE and HEATHER. If Eddie gets a role here, he’ll be part of something big. Something important. Something that people will really be watching, if not for Eddie himself, but for the promise of a good cinematic experience.

The two are old friends from SNL but have had vast experiences in the world of media. When HEATHER decided he wanted to start directing movies, he got Mane to write the scripts. And before the world knew it, new legends have risen in the film industry.

They’ve been working together for fifteen years now, with four out of five of their films heralded as blockbuster successes and iconic movies. They’re up there, with Tarantino and Scorsese. They’re the big guys. And if you need any indication that you’ve made it, its when you’re in their film. Because its most definitely a guarantee that you’ll succeed.

The thing is, though, the reason his agent is nervous is because of the second part of that rumor. It’s their riskiest movie so far. It scares a lot of people, from a financial standpoint and also with how the people will react. But the two are unrelenting, and Lane had even claimed this was the best script he’s written yet.

Eddie is both terrified and excited. He doesn’t care if its risky, its _Lane and Heather_. Whatever narrative they tell will come from a human point, it will be well-researched, well-represented and honest. It’s _art_ in the highest level, that shouldn’t appeal to the majority, but it _does_. That’s why they’re so special. They make people see things in a different perspective in the subtlest way that they don’t even realize their minds are changing when the film has ended. And once it has, that’s when the catharsis happens.

Eddie so badly wants to be part of that catalyst for human catharsis. To be good enough, powerful enough in the set of skills he has that he can bring about change…

Eddie might be afraid of many things, and he can fill a whole notebook of them, starting from the kind of food he cannot eat, but he is brave enough to have a dream. And he is strong enough to keep trying to reach it.

\--

The audition happens at the fourth day of his stay in New York. This is the second stage of the audition process, and he thinks he did a pretty good job. The casting directors all smiled at him and told him they will call in a few weeks.

Eddie doesn’t try to hold onto too much hope so he simply smiles back before walking away.

\--

A week after that, he gets into the worst breakdown he’s had in a while. Eddie didn’t mean it, his eye just happened to catch it while scrolling down and his thumb accidentally clicked the link before he could do something about it.

When the page loaded, not a second later, the title stands large and intimidating: **_WHERE ARE THE PARADISE ISLAND KIDS NOW?_**

It is innocent and harmless to everyone but Eddie. Because it had confirmed to him that people _are_ watching, and that they _are_ comparing, and fuck if they ask where Eddie is now, he’s _nowhere_ and he’s probably never gonna get _anywhere_ and fuck! He chucks his phone into his bed and takes a breath before he realizes he’s hyperventilating. His chest is so tight and his eyes are burning, he’s going to die and no one’s going to find him until its too late and there’ll be _articles_ about his dead body and his mom will be right and—

Eddie feels the strong reassuring warmth of someone on his back, and he hears the shushing more as a slow realization than an immediate observation. His lips are numb when they close around the mouthpiece of his inhaler and it releases sweet relief into his mouth.

“E-E-Eddie, Eddie, its, its alri- it’s alright, calm down, c- _calm_ down, shhh…”

“Bill,” he wheezes. He grips Bill’s forearm like a lifeline, and he suddenly feels so small in the sturdy frame that is Bill Denbrough, but never has he felt so relieved at the same time. He catches Bill’s eye, desperate and pleading, “What if I never get a role?”

“Y-you’ll get a role, Eddie. Better y-yet, you’ll get the role you want. Because- you’re talented. And you work h-harder than anyone I know. You’re amazing Eddie. And the world will have to be r-ready to see that.”

Eddie does not quite believe it, but he tries to relish in the lie for the minutes it takes for him to calm down.

\--

It happens at Georgie’s birthday. They’ve invited their agent, Miss Hannah, and their other friends who are nearby. Bev is there for the fortnight and will be sleeping over for a week because, she says, shrieking into Eddie’s ear, “ _I’ve missed my boys! We’ve got so much to catch up to!”_

Eddie is in the middle of the couch, watching Bev charm her way to strangers, and Bill steel through a conversation like he always does. Georgie is having fun with his friends, running around the house quoting old iconic Vines that Eddie always snickers at privately.

He’s drinking his soda watered down with more ice than needed, trying not to feel like a huge piece of shit compared to his best friends—add in a few inevitable spirals down an existential crisis and dread for his future—and he might be failing, big time, because when Hannah comes in the room looking absolutely stunned, Eddie realizes just how strong his grip on the glass is.

He loosens it immediately and places it down, ready to panic with Hannah. But before he could even so much as stand up, Hannah says in a voice it’s never quite been before. It is serious and steady—firm, and also a bit frightening for how sure it sounds, “Eddie,” she starts.

And what happens next will be the time stamp Eddie will surely pinpoint to, and say, “There. That’s the part where things went to fucktown.” He wouldn’t have known it by then, and he probably wouldn’t even fully know until he is sixty and wrinkly but happy and successful, just how many times his life will go up and down in the course of the next decade.

Because right now, all Eddie sees is that Hannah is standing there looking like she might burst into excitement, and Bev is looking at him with something akin to bewilderment and awe. When he chances a look at Bill, he sees something like surety, like this is just him confirming what he already knows.

Because Hannah walks to him in a tunnel vision of just Eddie, grips his shoulders and says, words hush but words that are so powerful that everyone has no choice but to listen:

It goes:

“Eddie. You’ve got it.”

“What?”

“You’re leading the cast of the next biggest blockbuster!”

And Eddie, well, Eddie can only think—ah, Richie Tozier can go _fuck_ himself because Eddie Kaspbrak is soaring well away from him. And he’s doing it _on his own._

_\--_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Lane and Heather are basically Mulaney and Hader, the paragons of humor and good will. They are iconic and are legends and no one shall say otherwise.
> 
> Please! Tell me what you think Q-Q take a line, tell me where you are rn, heck talk about your dog, please im lonely


	3. bike pt. two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, I have no knowledge of the workings of Hollywood but watch me write a fic about it. This takes place in an AU, haha, so there, I am excused, I guess. However, if you have any insider knowledge on it or experience please feel free to educate me.

*

**bike. pt. two.**

*

“Don’t forget, the chemistry read will be sometime next week, and after that you’ll be staying in New York again for a while. Have you read the script I sent you?”

“Yeah, I was just learning my lines.”

“Okay, good. Uh…” Eddie hears the hesitation in his agent’s voice. “Eddie?”

“Yes?” He asks, starting to get anxious.

“I heard this thing is going to be risky. I need you to be mentally prepared for what’s to come. The script will most likely…” Hannah breathes deep across the phone speakers, letting the silence tell Eddie exactly how much the script will be riskier than he already thinks it is. Eddie taps his foot to try and release some excess energy. “Anyway, I trust that you can adapt to any script. You’ll do well, Eddie. I’ll call you later.”

That really doesn’t do anything other than cause Eddie to spiral deeper into his thoughts and well-founded anxieties of Fucking Things Up and Not Being Good Enough. He’s heard the script might have some setbacks—especially if it’s released as the blockbuster that they’re intending it to be. But Eddie believes in the writers, and even if he doesn’t think he could do it, he would have to do it. He _has_ to. If he doesn’t try now, he’ll never get anywhere.

The script he has right now will most likely be changed after the script reading, so he’s not so much as memorizing it than getting to know his character. The premise itself is familiar: it’s the basic YA film— a _Seven Deadly Sins_ YA film, in fact. By its DNA, it _should_ be gritty. It has the tone and title that attracts the edgy and brooding audience that is the young. It _should_ be like Twilight, by principle of its name and basis. But Lane has promised that it would be more of a Dungeons and Dragons episode done on crack.

While Eddie might be on the better side of “ _a gullible mess!”_ , he’s not an idiot. He’s learned not to believe those kinds of things, especially from someone with Lane’s track record. Lane is a bastard who will make you laugh so hard in one scene that you’ll snort coke (the beverage) and then in the next scene, you’ll cry so hard that your tears come out as that same coke. It’s how he gets people— by mastering the two extremes of drama: comedy and tragedy.

Eddie hasn’t finished reading the script yet, but he skimmed through it and saw a few lines that demonstrated exactly how brutal the writer is. Knowing where the story will generally lead shows him the gist of what he’s about to go through both emotionally and physically. And… well, it’s going to be _hard._

But instead of feeling the foreboding sense of dread and destruction that’s basically become his personality, Eddie feels small sparks of excitement. There is a thrill in his bones that is electric. He’s only felt this a few times in his young life. It comes in the moments of self-despair, and in overcoming it to take whatever challenge. It comes when the opportunity to prove himself becomes so humongous that he can’t help but take it. It comes in the eve of great change. One that he will not be able to sense at this point of his young life, but one with which he will reflect and wonder upon.

He feels _alive._

Like he’s _ready_.

And Eddie thinks, _fuck,_ he might just be.

\--

That confidence lasts him until he goes to the auditions. He’s been reading for a couple of kids already—and given that the main cast centers around seven kids, Eddie’s got himself a lot on his plate. He slumps against the wall where he rests while on break. He catches the casting director looking down at her paper disapprovingly.

Since the morning, he’s had to read for both boys and girls and no one has quite… reached Eddie. Everything’s bland, and Eddie thinks it might be because _he’s_ bland. And then they’d have no choice but to get rid of _him_ and—

“…so, you’re saying we’re only looking for four now?”

“Out of the seven, yes. We’ve got Eddie for the lead character. We’ve got the… the second lead character. We’re only missing three boys and a girl.”

“One girl? Why?”

“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about this—”

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut. He’ll know about it when it comes, he’s already way too invested in this. Unless he’s forced to quit, he’ll be here through and through.

“Alright, back to work everybody.”

And so, the cycle repeats.

\--

Actually, it doesn’t quite disappoint him as much. Two of them actually did well. One of them, Ben, is a chubby kid with rosy cheeks and a kind smile. He’s soft in all the ways that matter, but when he needs to act tough for a scene, he delivers. There is a certain hardiness in the way he ploughs through, and the way he backs up Eddie’s character creates a distinct tone from the rest of the earlier kids’ auditions.

There is strength in his voice, yeah. But underneath that is also fear. And it becomes this act of bravery despite the paralyzing fear. And that’s what makes it more… significant. Because you’re brave if you do things when you’re scared, right? At least… that’s what Bill always told him.

Another one of the kids was Mike. The first thing Eddie could remember about Mike was his smile—god damn that kid has got a gorgeous smile. He looks dependable, like he’s a pillar. His voice—so cool and confident. Eddie wants to be like him. He initially read for the Wrath character, but the casting director made him switch to Sloth.

Eddie watches as Mike studies Wrath’s lines for, what he assumes is, the first time and then immediately adopts to the character. The sheer skill and professionalism he had takes Eddie out of his comfort zone. He feels challenged, but never threatened. And if he could make an ally and a friend out of Mike, it would be his damn pleasure.

\--

About two weeks pass with no luck on the other characters. Hannah calls Eddie about them and tells him that they’re still looking for two characters.

Hesitantly, Eddie suggests Bev and Bill. He knows this is different. He won’t be the same kid depending on their charm to survive. He would be the one leading them. Eddie trusts them enough for that. But more than that, Eddie believes that they will shine in the film with him rather than overshadow him.

He doesn’t know where he gets it. This surge of confidence that is always fluctuating. But it always comes back up when he needs to make decisions. That’s good enough for him.

\--

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie—”

“Bev.”

“EDDIE.”

“BEV.”

“Eddie, my dear—” Bev drapes herself over Eddie and then falls limp, but not completely so that she will fall on the floor.

Eddie giggles at her antics, “Oh my God Bev.”

“Eddie, I hate you so much.”

“I love you too Bev.”

“Y-you got the role, right, Bev?” Bill asks from where he’s sitting on the couch. Bev is visiting them right now, a few blissful weeks of nothingness—its summer so they’re officially out of school, and Bev was on a break from projects.

“ _Duh_ , my dear Denbrough. Yes. I got the role,” she said, raising her head from Eddie’s shoulder to give Bill a dead stare. When she deems it threatening enough, she glares back at Eddie, “And it’s all because of Eddie.”

“And it’s bad because?”

“Cause now I’m going to be absolutely feral on set! Medieval setting?! _Fantasy?_ Seven! Deadly! Sins! William Denbrough, how do you expect _me_ , a fashion enthusiast, to stay sane in a set like that?!” Bev begins throwing her hands in the air, frustrated and buzzing at the same time. Passion ploughing through her usual exuberance, more fire than sunlight. “And my manager said we’d be shooting in an actual location! God fucking damn it, you’re going to have to drag me away from set every day cause’ I’ll be damned if I don’t live like the fae that I am!”

“You know it’s not exactly that kind of fantasy, right?” Eddie says, eyebrows raises both physically and spiritually.

Bev scoffs, “A girl could imagine. It’s not that hard.”

“But wait,” Bill perks up, looking at Eddie, “Are we really staying in the middle of nowhere?”

Eddie feels a shot of excitement at the way Bill looks to him for confirmation. It feels like just a few months ago, he was on the couch, looking up at Bill and asking _him_ about important things. Now, its Eddie who’s standing up. And if Bill stands up as well, it won’t make Eddie feel less, but… it’s more like standing on the same field as him now.

“It’s not confirmed yet, but the producers are aiming for that. They want to do some things the old -fashioned way, and CGI won’t work for them if it’s making, like, 80 percent of the movie. They said real terrain will help.”

“Wow,” Bill says in that quiet way of his, “that’s so c-cool, Eddie.”

And when Bill smiles at Eddie, he can’t help but grin as wide as he can, right back at Big Bill.

\--

Eddie is legally allowed to scream. He gets into the chemistry read early with Bill and Bev. Bev’s chatter is enough to distract him from the responsibilities he feels he has as the main lead, so the pressures feels more like a hand on his neck than a chokehold. Manageable.

He observes the large room with a long table set up for the actors, writers and the crew. He feels his gut drop down to his knees when he sees Lane and Heather talking at the side, the inherent need to please them increasing every second. At the side, he sees a lone teen sitting primly on the chair by the end of the table.

Eddie thinks he’s looking at the most adult person in the room. An old man trapped in the body of a teen. His curly hair coils in a clean way, almost, like he’s told it to stay exactly where it was and it was too afraid to defy his orders.

He must have been looking too long because just at that second, he catches his eyes.

Now, Eddie’s never really had to take charge before. As he’s established, that had been Bill’s job. But because he needs to prove to himself, starting _now,_ he goes against his anxieties and walks toward his cast mate.

“Hi, I’m Eddie and I’m—”

“You’re playing Pride, right?” he says, eye brows raised and looking Eddie up and down like he’s a particularly judgmental robot scanning him for defects.

“I—uh, yes! I am. How about you?” Eddie slaps himself for stumbling. _Exude. Confidence!_ You’re Hollywood’s new leading man, Eddie. Act like it!

“I’m supposed to be Envy,” he says, like he’s not quite impressed.

“Supposed to?”

“Well this is a chemistry test,” he shrugs, and even then, he’s like a hundred-year-old Queen, “everything’s not exactly set into stone.”

“Ah,” Eddie breathes, suddenly feeling nervous, “yes. Of course. Yeah.”

He knows he’s the main lead, but could that change? He feels his hand itch to call Hannah and then to take a heaping gulp of his— _no._ It’s not real. He doesn’t need _that thing._ He’s here, and he will be here until they ask him to leave. And if they do, he’ll try to convince them to let him stay. He’ll fight tooth and nail for this role, and it will be a bloodbath before he left willingly.

“I’m Stan,” the other teen tells plainly.

“Oh!” Eddie jumps, thrown out of his own inner monologue. He slaps his hands right by his thighs, twitching but resisting movement. “Right, good luck to us. Let’s hope this chemistry read goes well.”

Right then, Stan heaves an irritated sigh, looking down at his phone for the time. “Yeah, well, it’s not starting out to be a good day, that’s for sure.”

Concerned, Eddie asks, “Why?”

“The dumbass was supposed to be here an hour ago. I swear to God, he’s going to be the death of me. He told me he was going to be here early, cause—well,” Stan flounders for the first time, and then recovers immediately, “Well, he _promised._ And I knew I shouldn’t have taken his word for it. Guy’s notorious for spewing nonsense.”

“We all know that guy,” Eddie sympathizes.

At this, Stan smirked, “Oh, indeed.”

Eddie doesn’t quite get it, but he lets it be. People like Stan are what he calls an Old Soul. They speak in riddles and make you feel inferior because of just how poised and knowing they carry themselves. He’s the kind of person you want to trust because they’re reliable, but the exact person you shouldn’t trust because you never quite know what they’re thinking. His dry way of talking also does put him in the spot. But apart from that, he’s kind of… neurotic in a way that Eddie finds familiar. The way he rearranges the script on his table and the particular way he taps on the wood tell him of the state of agitation and discomfort Stan is right now. He finds a kind of camaraderie with that.

“Anyway, I have to go to the bathroom. Excuse me.”

Stan leaves him standing by the table, alone and inquisitive. When he looks behind him, he finds that Beverly has started charming her way into both Mike and Ben. One… more than the other.

There are other teens filtering in the room, much less than the ones he had to work with a few weeks ago, but still more than seven. They’re the final contenders for the roles, and while Eddie knows he’s kind of set in stone as the lead character, he reserves an expectation of being replaced. Who knows if there’s someone with more… Pride energy? Someone better. God knows most of them have more talent than him. He shivers.

\--

It’s about thirty minutes into the chemistry read and he’s had to interact with everyone in the cast roster. So far, he’s confident in his chemistry with Bill and Bev. They’ve been working for three years, it’s easy to get back into it.

Stan was a bit hard to work with at first, but after a stumble or two, they finally found their tone and the deadpan/panic duo works wonders for them.

So far, Eddie’s worked with the rest of the cast—Mike and Ben included. But he feels like there is a distinct lack of chemistry for the read throughs with this one character. Mike’s already read for Sloth, and he’s sure he’ll get the role of the ‘essential narrator’ what with his smooth voice and relaxing demeanor.

Ben also proves himself as Gluttony, playing off his naturally shy demeanor with eagerness and spontaneously genuine reactions. The guy blushes on command!

Eddie kind of flinches at the role Bev has taken—thinks that just because she’s a girl, she didn’t have to be Lust. But she was determined for the role. And when Eddie looked into her eyes, he saw purpose, so he let it go.

Since Bill was wrath, that left him with Greed. So far, no one has quite landed themselves enough of an impression, chemistry wise. And his real fear of getting replaced begins to come true again, since Greed is the deuteragonist (“ _Just say second lead!”)_ he thinks that maybe this is when he’ll get replaced for a more versatile main character. Someone who could get along with just about anyone.

Just as he’s about to spiral into that thought process ( _cut! Do it again, but this time with more despair),_ Eddie hears a crash from the hallway and the distant sound of frantic footfalls. From his left, he feels more than hears the exasperated sigh of Stan, and then by his right a few ways in front, he hears the excited chatter of Heather and Lane.

He tries not to let the obvious surge of new energy intimidate him. Because whoever that person is might be the one they’ve all been waiting for.

Eddie gulps, and he feels Bev shift in her seat closer to him. “You think that’s the one?”

“Who?” he squeaks. _Damn it._

Bev rolls her eyes playfully, “You know. Your deu-te-ra-go-nist. Your partner in crime this time. Your best friend on set. Your,” and here Bev leans in close, “ _love interest_.”

“ _My what!”_ Eddie whisper-screams.

The footsteps get closer.

“You can’t be serious,” Bev deadpans.

There is a voice echoing in the halls and everyone is waiting for the person to arrive.

“ _What love interest—I—isn’t this supposed to be about a_ ragtag _group of_ friends _—where in the script--!”_

_STEP. STEP. STEP._

“They never told you about the change they’re making? _Apparently,_ and, by the way, this is just wild speculation, someone overheard Lane talk about a kiss in the end. And reading the script—I honestly don’t think it’d be you and me doing the do.”

Eddie blushes and smacks Bev lightly. “ _Bev! Oh my god, I’m, I’m supposed to kiss someone—what if I don’t like them?!”_

“Well, you gotta do it anyway, if it’s in the script.”

“Bev, I’ve never…”

“Oh.”

“Yeah!”

“ _Oh.”_

The hall is entirely quiet, and the door knob quakes and quivers with the door as the person on the other end struggles to open it.

When a crew rushes to help, the door slams to the wall, almost hitting the poor man.

Eddie jumps at the sound and refuses to turn back around. Bev gives him one last look before turning away to see who the lucky bastard is. He sees the way her eyes widen in surprise and he almost gives in. He’s not quite ready yet. He… he’s gathering courage, okay?!

He watches Bev, instead. Her eyes suddenly crinkle, and it might just be mischief or humor, which he does not understand. Beside him, he hears another insufferable groan from Stan. And few chairs from him, the soft and quiet, “ _Oh,”_ of Bill.

Finally, he looks at the door.

His curly black hair is tousled into the most obnoxiously try-hard bad boy look, and it sends a deep-seated desire to set in on fire.

Suddenly all his nerves were replaced with the familiar irritation that he has so intimately associated with the dumbass. He’s probably here for some music shit. Maybe he’s just lost.

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here?” he mutters, loud enough for Bev to hear.

And in the seconds it take for Lane and Heather to walk up to bastard, for his eyes to meet his, and for his brain to register the damning words that went, “Richie Tozier, you really took all the time in the world, you _greedy_ little bastard.” Eddie catches eyes with Bev, and the world shone on Eddie’s haunting realization.

“ _Oh.”_

And then.

“ _Oh no.”_

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think :)

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me on Tumblr, I'm eduardo-andale-lets-go! Send me some asks or ask to join our discord channel!


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